A/N: I would have had this ready a lot earlier, but as usual my muse added bits in, and insisted I totally change the ending.

Part Eight

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Thank goodness there was no sign of Rose when Donna got back to her temporary desk outside Mr Tyler's office. There was, however, the photo that Rose had wielded under her nose. It was a clear shot of the Doctor dancing with someone who had their back to the camera. Still, it wasn't too bad a view of her, Donna decided. Was it wrong to be glad that her hair looked okay from the back? Those hands of his really did linger dangerously low on her body, despite his declaration of it being a harmless gesture. The cheeky git!

At five o'clock she picked up her mobile phone, brought up Chris' phone number and pressed the dial button. To her surprise, he didn't pick up, and it went to voicemail. "Where are you, Chris? I need to talk to you about something. Oh and Alan emailed to ask if we were going for Christmas drinks tomorrow at the Red Lion," she hastily said when the bleep went. As she frowned at the phone in her hand something moved in her peripheral vision, and she stifled a scream when she spotted the Doctor leaning against the open door. "You bloody idiot! I almost had a heart attack then," she admonished him.

He gracefully pushed himself away from the door and made his way towards her, smiling slyly. "I wanted to watch you unnoticed for a few minutes. There's no harm in that, is there? And I wanted to take you out for dinner."

Stifling a frown, she warned him, "I can't go far, as I have to deal with the second Christmas party tonight."

"Then I'd better be quick whilst monopolising your time," he smoothly replied.

"Why do I get the impression you are trying to stop me talking with someone?" she asked him as she noted his sneaky action of slipping her phone deep into her bag.

All he did was chuckle in answer, and led her towards the lift.

Chris woke with a start and glanced at his watch. Blimey! He had slept right through the night; his reaction to the potion was getting worse each time he used it. This time round he had lost over ten hours through sleep. Swearing lightly, he decided that he would not attempt to use it at least until the weekend, that's if he ever bothered again. He couldn't afford to risk losing precious hours being wasted like that.

Wasn't he supposed to be doing something that evening? Trying not to panic, he hastily phoned Donna. "I am so sorry I didn't phone you last night, but I took something and it completely zonked me out."

"Aren't you well?" she immediately asked with deep concern. "I hope you are eating and drinking enough."

Relief and love and flooded through him. "It's probably nothing, just a sniffle and will go away pretty soon," he consoled her. "Are we still going to Alan's Christmas drink tonight? It should be a laugh," he said, and distractedly picked up a pen to fiddle with as he considered what to write about his reaction in his data collection notebook.

"Yes, it should be," Donna readily agreed. "At least we won't have Mandy Thompson dominating the evening like we did at Delores' do on Thursday. But, Chris, can I ask you to do one thing?"

"What's that?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Don't bring up the incident with the paint," she pleaded.

Chris instantly laughed loudly. When they were in B&Q the week before, he had told her he was thinking of painting his lounge with tartan paint, and Donna had remarked that she didn't know Dulux did that colour before she had realised he was having her on. "Okay, love, I will; but only if you promise to help me with the lounge once I've decided what colour I want."

"That's bribery and corruption," she jokingly protested. "Oh alright then; you've twisted my arm. But hurry up and choose a bloody colour!"

He didn't answer that, instead he arranged to meet her straight after work that evening.

The Red Lion was festooned in several festive pieces of decoration; or 'tat' as Donna insisted on calling it. Chris didn't mind; it gave the place a cheery ambience and it was full of people he knew reasonably well now. Alan instantly stood to greet them and invited them over to three tables wedged together. Whilst Chris got his hand shook, Donna was kissed on the cheek by every single bloke there, much to his annoyance; so he kept a tight grasp on her as they sat down, making sure she sat closer to him than anyone else.

Drinks were prompted plonked down in front of them, and Donna's stomach growled. "I'm starving," she whispered to Chris. "Shall I see if they do food?" he nodded his agreement so she bounced up to the bar. Unfortunately they didn't, so she arrived back at the table with crisps for her, Chris and an assortment for the rest of the group.

"We'll sneak off and get a proper meal," Chris promised her.

But obviously other people had an alternative plan, and they were continuously plied with drinks to keep them there as they all swopped humorous or boastful stories about their DIY attempts.

"What are you planning next, Donna?" one of the group asked her.

"We're painting Chris' lounge," she replied without any hesitation. "I think it would look lovely with a soft purple."

Chris instantly scoffed at that. "I don't think so!"

Alan asked them, "When are you two making it official?"

"Making what official?" Donna queried.

Alan waved a finger between the two of them. "You two. It was obvious from the start that you would get together."

Both Donna and Chris blushed. "I'm not sure I'd say that," Chris blustered.

"If you don't want Donna I'll have her," one man retorted, making the others laugh.

"You wouldn't be man enough to handle me," Donna commented with a slight slur. "Now our Chris here…" She gave his knee a pat. "He knows his way around my plumbing, if you see what I mean."

"You talk as though you've seen him naked," another man said with glee.

"Oh but I have," she replied. "Don't tell anyone, especially about what he did with my knickers."

"Donna!" Chris practically squawked. "That was between us."

As she agreed with him, more drinks were placed before them. "We need to celebrate the first impending Home Handyperson wedding," Alan told the group, and he lifted up his glass. "To Chris and Donna!"

Despite their denying protests, the whole group toasted them. By the time half past nine came around and the group started to split up to go home, Donna and Chris were almost four sheets to the wind.

"Do you want to come back and we rustle ourselves up something to eat?" he asked next to her ear. "I think we'd better get a taxi as, I don't know about you, but I'm willing to bet I'll have problems walking along the street."

She smiled back at him with a matching drunken grin. "Sounds alright to me. What about whathisface?"

Chris waved his hand dramatically dismissively. "Don't worry about him. He's not in and not due back for days."

"Goodnight, you two," someone said. "Merry Christmas!"

They both replied in the same vein, but Chris pulled Donna hastily back from another kiss attempt. The remainder of the group laughed at them. "Oh yeah, not together at all," someone sarcastically remarked as they left the pub; but they weren't heard within the bar.

"Taxi?" Chris queried, and then stood up, offering her a hand as he did so.

"Lead on, Macduff," she answered him; and they almost fell out through the pub doors as they giggled together.

Alan made sure they were safely seated in a taxi before he wended his own way home; smiling with delight at them.

Still giggling, they burst through Chris' front door and challenged each other to walk in a straight line to the kitchen. Donna managed it better than Chris did, striking a catwalk pose as she did.

"That's not fair," he petulantly protested. "You're built for balance more than I am."

"How the hell do you get that? You're a twig with big feet; how can you topple so easily?" she teased him.

"Well… you have extra padding with a lower centre of gravity," he countered. "It's logical that you'd thingy."

She pushed him slightly, and laughed loudly when he almost fell before he held onto a kitchen worktop with a death grip. "Donna! You play dirty," he complained. "Come here and let me show you."

"Show me what?" she cagily wondered when he took hold of her hands.

He took a stance. "Push against me," he ordered her. "If you manage to move me before I push you that proves you've got a centre of gravity."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Obviously I've got a centre of gravity otherwise I'd never be able to control walking."

"Stop being obstinate and just do it," he huffed. "Ready?"

They took positions, and then pushed bodily against one another; but their hands slipped and she fell onto him, pinning him up by the fridge freezer. His arms instantly wrapped around her to stop them falling sideways, and then because he wanted to.

This was the opportunity he had been waiting for all evening. "Do you know that you missed out kissing someone 'Merry Christmas' tonight?" he breathily asked, as anticipation made him bolder.

"Did I? Who was that then?" she asked, mesmerised by the dark lingering look he was giving her; willing him to take the next step.

"Me," he answered, edging closer. "Merry Christmas, Donna."

There was no chance to say the words back because his mouth descended slowly onto hers as he spoke; and he kissed her. He tasted of whiskey, beer and crisps, but fortunately so did she. All she was aware of was the softness of that bottom lip as it made its way across hers, making her open to allow wet succulent kisses as they fed their desire. When their tongues met, to both slide and glide together, their bodies pressed together with a delicious frisson.

After several minutes he then released her mouth to nibble her earlobe, her throat, and anywhere he could reach. "Yes, oh yes," she gasped out, drowning in the moment.

"Shall we go and sit down while we finishing eating," he offered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Inevitably she swatted at his arm and then picked up their sandwiches whilst he carried their coffees.

She woke the following morning wondering if a lorry was reversing through her head until she realised that the sound was coming from outside. Her head was resting on something warm beneath her cheek, making her face sweat, and she cautiously lifted herself away and then snuggled down again. This always felt good.

Hang on… she wasn't married anymore, so the naked flesh she was leaning on wasn't Darren. Who was it? Pushing up on an arm that was half asleep, she saw the head of someone tipped back over the edge of the bed; and that someone was Chris.

'Chris!' she thought with a start. He looked blissfully peaceful as he slept on, and she fondly caressed his face; getting a smile as she did so.

Sitting up, she grabbed her head to stop the room spinning. What had happened last night? Well, she could guess part of it, since they were both naked and entwined under part of the duvet. Risking opening her eyes, she saw their clothing flung about the room. Had they really been that frivolous, that abandoned? The smell of sex hung heavy about them, so there was no denying they had thrown caution to the winds in a drunken moment.

What had they done?! How stupid could she be to have fallen into bed without any precautions? And what about their relationship… had they ruined it? Could she risk seeing this in a positive light?